


Draco Malfoy and the Philosopher's Stone

by JamesPeppersalt



Series: Draco Malfoy Accord [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:47:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesPeppersalt/pseuds/JamesPeppersalt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Harry had shaken Draco's hand? How would their lives have been different? Take a look at the book through Draco's eyes in an alternate universe where Harry and Draco take their journey through Hogwarts as friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boy With the Lightning Scar

**Author's Note:**

> This is not Drarry fic. I am so sorry. Also, I will be going along with the books, rather than the movies. I am not sorry.  
> Harry Potter and all its characters and quotes belong to J.K. Rowling.

Draco could hardly believe his eyes.

It was him. The real Harry Potter, in the flesh. He cold tell by the lightning-shaped scar on the boy's forehead.

However, looking away from the scar, he wasn't much to behold.  
Like Draco, he was an eleven-year-old boy, and that was about it. He was average-sized, kind of skinny in physique (he seemed malnourished, actually). He had atrociously messy black hair- Draco's mother Narcissa would never allow that, she would most definitely scream and proceed to spend hours taming it- and brilliant green eyes. Draco had a nagging sensation of familiarity, when he realized it- this was the boy from Madame Malkin's.

He also recognized the other boy; just by the red hair he could tell it was a Weasley. And a tall one, too, at that. Was he really a first year? It didn't matter; what mattered was why Potter was hanging around with rabble like- like this Weasley, or that Hagrid bloke.

"Is it true?" Draco asked. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," Potter said. He was eyeing Crabbe and Goyle suspiciously. Draco felt introductions were in order.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," he said. "And my name's Draco Malfoy."

The Weasley sniggered, but tried to pass it off as a cough. Draco raised an eye brow. A surname like "Weasley" and he had the gall to laugh?

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco snapped. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He didn't wait to see Weasley's reaction. He turned back to Potter. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand.

Potter hesistated. He looked from Draco to Weasley. Draco didn't blame him; it would be difficult, seeing as he'd only been around trash like Weasley in his time on the train. But eventually, he took Draco's hand and shook it.

"Okay, Draco," he said. "I'll be your friend, but I'm not sure I agree with you."

"That's fine." He would soon enough. Draco was sure of it. Suddenly, Goyle started shouting- Draco and Crabbe backed away, it was so _loud_ \- and flailing his hand about. There was a rat attached to his knuckles; Goyle howled and spun round and round and flung the rat across the compartment; it hit the window with a thud.

"Oi, don't touch our food!" Weasley shouted, standing.

"Hey!" Draco balled his fists and squared up against Weasley, although he was much shorter and likely looked utterly ridiculous. "Don't talk to him that way, Weasley. Crabbe, take Goyle to get his hand looked at. Don't want him to catch any diseases that rat must be carrying."

"He isn't carrying diseases!" Weasley barked as Crabbe and Goyle shuffled out.

"What  _has_  been going on?"

A girl with bushy hair and odd teeth came into the compartment. She already had her robes on; was she from a prominent wizarding family like Draco? If so, he didn't know which one.

He was so busy studying her, he didn't notice Weasley picking up his rat.

"I think he's been knocked out," Weasley said to Potter. "No- I don't believe it- he's gone back to sleep."

Draco rolled his eyes. A lazy rat from a lazy family.

The girl still hadn't received an answer, which Draco thought quite rude.

"There's just been a... misunderstanding with my friends and this.. _boy's_ rat," Draco said. Weasley was fuming. "What's your name, then?"

"Hermoine Granger."

"Granger? As in the Granger who discovered the cure for-"

"Oh, no. I'm not related to him, if that's what you're asking. I'm a m-"

"Hermoine!" Weasley interrupted; he'd been listening to Potter recounting his first meeting with Draco. He blushed when their attention was turned to him, a if he'd never actually had anything to say. "Um... can we help you with something?"

Hermoine rolled her eyes. "You'd better hurry and put your robes on. I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, ad he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get in there!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. He might actually come to like this girl. Maybe.

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Weasley said, scowling at her. Draco sensed there was bad blood between the two. "Would you mind leaving while we change?" "Alright- I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childlishly, racing up and down the corridors," Hermoine said in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, did you know?"

Draco had to stop himself from laughing. He found it quite difficult.

Draco followed as Hermoine stepped out; Weasley glared at them as they went.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts, Potter." He smiled. "Maybe we can have tea in the Slytherin commons when we're there."

Potter turn pale at the word "Slytherin". What had these riffraff been feeding him?

"Oh, come now, Slytherin's not _all_ bad." Draco rolled his eyes and closed the door.

"Friends!" Weasley shouted as soon as the door was closed. "With Draco Malfoy! His parents worked with..." his voice lowered, "You-Know-Who."

Draco's nose wrinkled in anger. He knew his parents had been Death Eaters, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that, but this Weasley boy had no right to talk rubbish of them.

"With Voldemort? Are you sure?"

Draco was surprised; Potter had the gumption to say the Dark Lord's name aloud? Perhaps Draco's worries were correct, and Potter did belong in Gryffindor...

"I've heard of his family. They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

Now Draco was absolutely livid. How  _dare_ that absolute git talk about his father like that?! He didn't know anything! Draco hoped Weasley'd be put in Slytherin so he'd know what it was like. To have everyone treat you like absolute rubbish just because you were better. Maybe then he'd be taken down a peg.

Draco also found it funny that Weasley had called everyone who wasn't a follower of the Dark Lord "our side". There was no one "their" side; there weren't two sides. There were many people who didn't sympathize with the Death Eaters who couldn't stand each other. Who could never be considered to be on the same side. There weren't two sides; it wasn't a coin. Nothing was that black and white.

"Still, though," Harry said, "everyone deserves a chance, right?"

"Whatever... I'm still your friend, right? I mean, was I- am I your friend?"

"Of course, Ron. I hope you'll always be my friend."

"Aw, blimey. Come on, let's get into our robes before _Hermoine_ gets back and starts lecturing us on the History of Magic or... trigonometry or whatever."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. He realized he was leaning on the door, listening. He stood upright, straighted his collar, and walked back to his compartment.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time," a voice that echoed throughout the train claimed. "Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Draco smiled. They were almost there, he was so excited-

He then regained his composure, and returned to Crabbe and Goyle.


	2. Hats and Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco arrives at Hogwarts, but before he can process how starstruck he truly is, the Sorting Ceremony begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, this is doing better than I thought it would. Thank you, readers! Now, I wonder what House Draco will be sorted into... Hm... I wonder.

The boats terrified Draco.

He didn't show it, of course. He just gripped the edges of the boat and tried not to look too pale.

Potter was in a boat with Weasley(figured), Granger, and another boy- the one who'd lost his toad; Something Long bottom, Draco believed.

Would he ever get Potter away from the rabble?

Draco, on the other hand, shared a boat with Crabbe and Goyle, as well as another boy whose surname was Zabini. Draco would have inquired as to his lineage had he not felt as the ETERNAL PERIL OF THE POSSIBILITY OF DROWNING.

He shuddered and looked up. He'd been looking down so long, he hadn't noticed Hogwarts was in sight.

Draco drew in an astounded breath. It was splendid. Atop a snow-kissed mountain the school sat, windows glistening in the starlight, towers reaching for the sky.

His new home. He was amazed, he was flabbergasted...

He was so in awe, he forgot his fear.

***

It still felt like an eternity before they reached the rocky shore.

Draco hurriedly climbed out of the boat, careful not to crease his robes as he did so. He wasn't satisfied until his feet stood upon the pebbly ground.

After the boats were ashore and a boy (Longbottom?) was reunited with his toad, they all made their way up , following that gargantuan groundskeeper Draco had first seen at Diagon Alley (Hagrid).

Draco looked around, but he couldn't find Potter. Perhaps he was too far away; Draco was almost certain Potter was in the front, since he probably thought he liked the giant. Draco would have to fix that.

The first years emerged to the surface, where they had to walk on the still-wet grass. Draco mumbled to himself as his shoes grew damper with each step. He had boxes full of shoes, but these were his favorite; only the best for his first day. Now he was regretting his choice of footwear.

Fortunately, they soon made it to a set of stone steps and everyone huddled around a huge, oaken set of double doors.

"Everyone here?" The giant called. Draco scoffed. He doubted anyone who was missing would answer. "You there, still got yer toad?"

The groundskeeper raised a massive fist and knocked thrice upon the door, which sprang open at once. A tall, bespectacled witch with graying, dark hair stepped out. Although the emerald green robes and the stern expression she donned could lead some to believe she was a typical Slytherin, Draco knew otherwise.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the giant confirmed.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." McGonagall pulled the doors open, and the first first years ambled inside.

The interior was as magnificent as well; however, it was full of staircases. Draco grimaced. He hated exercise of any sort. This was going to be a long seven years.

"Goyle, Malfoy," Crabbe said. He pointed. "Look at that."

There were several ghosts streaming in through the back walls, conversing amongst themselves and paying little to no attention to the first years. One pair stopped to talk to a few students near the front, a friar and a ghost in a ruff. The friar seemed more friendly towards the students, wishing them luck and such.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" The Friar called before floating away. "My old house, you know."

Draco thought to himself that he wouldn't much mind to be in Hufflepuff if not Slytherin. His mother had said once that Hufflepuffs didn't feel the same way towards Slytherin as the other houses; some of her friends (who weren't in Slytherin of course) were in Hufflepuff.

It took him a minute to notice McGonagall had come back l, and had instructed the students to form a line. He ended up next to Goyle and a girl who seemed rather nervous. All of the first years followed McGonagall into the Great Hall, where everyone else was seated. Draco was even more starstruck; thousands of floated candles bathed the hall in light; the tables were adorned with golden dishware, goblets and utensils; and the ceiling- oh, the ceiling- was velvety black, and dappled with glittering l, shimmering stars. The staff sat at a table at the head, and this was where the first years were led.

McGonagall placed a stool in front of the first years. On top of that she placed a frayed and rather dirty pointed hat. His mother would have vigorously cleaned something like that. With fire.

The hat twitched and the, to Draco's amusement, began to sing.  
  
" _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_  
_But don't judge on what you see._  
_I'll eat myself if you can find_  
_A smarter hat than me._  
_You can keep your bowlers black,_  
_Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
_And I can cap them all._  
_There's nothing hidden in your head_  
_The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
_So try me on and I will tell you where you ought to be._  
_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart;_  
_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just a loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_  
_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_If you've a ready mind,_  
_Where those of wit and learning,_  
_Will always find their kind;_  
_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You'll make your really friends_  
_These cunning folk use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._  
_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap_!"  
  
The whole hall applauded, Draco included. What a curious hat.

McGonagall then unrolled a long scroll and called, "Abbot, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with bouncing blonde pigtails hurried up to the stool, and McGonagall placed the hat on her head.

After a short moment, the hat called, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuff table filled with polite applause- and then again when the next student was also sorted into their house. The next boy was Ravenclaw (whose table applauded and whistled), and "Bulstrode, Millicent" became the first Slytherin. The table filled with intense clapping as she made her way down the aisles, receiving pats and praise. Draco's heart filled with longing. Then his head filled with noise as "Brown, Lavender" was sorted into Gryffindor and the table practically exploded. Crabbe soon became a Slytherin.

Then that Granger girl from the train became a Gryffindor, to his surprise; he would have guessed she were a Ravenclaw. A girl named "Greengrass, Daphne" and Goyle were then sorted into Slytherin as well. Draco waited with baited breath for his turn.

Finally, "Malfoy, Draco" was called. He carried himself with pride to the stool and sat, smoothing his robes and folding his hands on his knees. Inwardly, he buzzed with excitement as McGonagall place the hat on his head. Oh, he hoped he was in Slytherin, he hoped he was in-

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table cheered, clapping and praising him. He grinned from ear to ear and hopped down from the stool. He shook hands and greeted people from important families as he made his way down the aisle until he reached Crabbe and Goyle.

"Good job, Malfoy" and "We knew it all along, Malfoy" and "A true Slytherin, Malfoy" they groveled. He sneered. Of course he was. Only everyone in his family was a Slytherin. Well, save for a certain two cousins. But his family never talked about them.

"Potter, Harry!"

His attention turned back to the front as the hall went quiet with silence and whispers. Potter was sitting on the stool, now. He looked frightened. Draco wanted to laugh and poke fun, tell him it wasn't as scary as it seemed. But McGonagall already had the hat on his head.

The hat seemed to ponder upon it for a time. Draco figured it didn't know which house to put him in. Surely the great Harry Potter could be in any-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

What.

Gryffindor. GRYFFINDOR.

Draco groaned. Such potential, wasted on a house full of braggarts, airheads and fools. The Gryffindor table cheered louder than it ever had that night (which was saying something) as Potter joined them; he ended up with three Weasleys. It figured, Draco thought. Angrily, he grabbed a handful of peppermint humbugs and began to snack on them as another girl was made Ravenclaw.

Weasley was Gryffindor too. Typical.

  
  
***

  
  
"This way, first years. My name is Gemma Farley, I'm a fifth-year prefect. I'll be leading you to Slytherin Common. And before anyone asks, yes, it is located in the dungeons." Several students groaned, but Draco didn't really react. He honestly didn't care where it was; he was already tired, and even more so just thinking about walking all the way to the dungeons. He just wanted a bed.

All of the first years followed Farley through the castle. The Hufflepuff first years weren't far off; their common room was in a basement. But they branched off once the groups neared the kitchens, and Slytherin was kept walking, going down, down, down until they made it to an unremarkable stone wall.

"Now, remember this password, and also remember that it changes every fortnight," Farley said over her shoulder. She turned to the wall and whispered, "Ancestry".

The wall melted away, to the students' amazement. She stepped inside and all followed.

The common room was carved from dark stone, lit by green lanterns. It was bedecked with green chairs and sofas, tables, dark wood cupboards, and Slytherin banners. "Welcome to your new home," Gemma announced, now facing the first years. "This is the Slytherin common room. We like to feel that our hangout has the aura of mysterious, underwater shipwreck. Sometimes you can even see the giant squid through the windows."

"Wait, this is under the lake?" Draco blurted.

Gemma's eyes fell upon him; they were eyes that seemed friendly, but demanded order. He made note of that.

"Yes," she said. "Sorry if you're scared of water. However, most of us find the lakewater lapping against windows relaxing. It helps me sleep, actually." She turned away and pointed. "Girls' dorms that way." She pointed in the other direction. "Boys' dorms that way. Your belongings are already there. Off with you, now; if you have any questions, take it up with a prefect. Do not bother Head Boy or Girl, as they are busy with other issues."

Draco made his way to the boys' dorms, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. The beds were all low-backed bunks; Crabbe and Goyle snagged a bunk to share between themselves, and another boy (whose name Draco did not know) had the bunk above Draco. Their trunks were all sorted; Draco grabbed his things, made his bed, and collapsed against it, exhausted.

It was hardly quiet in the dorm that night, but Draco still couldn't sleep even when all the other first years were long since dreaming. He stayed awake, listening to the black lakewater against the window nearest to his bunk. It terrified him...

But it also relaxed him, a little.

This was his new home... Slytherin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And no one was surprised. Ha, but really, it's extremely difficult to refrain from writing "Malfoy" rather than Draco.  
> (Okay I'm sorry I swear I'm working on chapter three I just lost the first two books. Still have to find book two...)


	3. The Potions Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco takes on homework and magic as classes start. It's not much of a hassle for him- he's been such a talented wizard from a young age, after all- but can he say the same for his new friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to get more organized with this fic. Weird thing, organization... you did this to me, AO3. I now keep a copy of The Sorcerer's Stone at my bedside(Yes, it's the Sorcerer's Stone edition. You caught me. I'm not actually British) and read it and take notes nightly, and my Google has had an article on Draco open for almost a week.  
> (P.S. So sorry for the long hiatus! I had to cut this off from a longer section and turn that into Chapter 4, so this is shorter.)

Draco found settling into his classes quite easy.  
Magic had always come naturally to him, his parents said. He'd even been chosen by a hawthorne wand, which would only even consider wizards of great potential. Not to say he didn't need to practise, however; he did that most every night before bed, after he finished homework.  
Yes, Draco was becoming quite the adept wizard.  
He could not say the same for Potter.  
He didn't have any classes with Potter until Potions on Friday, which ended up being disastrous for Potter.

The Slytherin and Gryffindor first-years were attending potions together that Friday, and it was one of the first times Draco had seen Harry since the Sorting Ceremony. Sure, they’d seen each other in the halls on occasion, Draco saying hello and Harry nodding politely back, but that had been the extent of their interactions.

Although he couldn’t be near Harry- Slytherins and Gryffindors sat with their houses but not with each other, so he was with Crabbe and Goyle- he was excited for the lesson nonetheless, for it was taught by none other than Severus Snape, who was famed in the tight-knit community his family held in esteem for serving the Dark Lord. Draco was sure he of all people would impress the professor.

Snape stood at the head of the classroom, calling roll- he seemed to linger, pondering, at Draco’s name for a small bit, but if so it was nearly undetectable by all the other students.

He  _ did _ , however, stop at  _ Harry’s  _ name, so noticeable a pause that it was a still altogether.

“Ah, yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new-  _ celebrity _ .”

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. Draco shoved his elbows into their ribs. He didn’t want them to muck his chances of befriending the next-greatest Dark wizard to ever live.

Glancing at Harry, Draco noticed he looked tense, staring into Snape’s face with a mix of anticipation and the slightest hint of fear.

After their staring contest, Snape finished calling roll, and began his introduction.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” Snape began. He didn’t speak loudly- in fact, his voice was barely a whisper- but the class caught every word. Draco remembered McGonagall’s class, in which every student was silent, lest they face severe consequence. This was exactly like that- though Draco had no current fear of Snape.

“As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you really will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…” such a beautiful speech. Draco would have to write this down somewhere. “I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Oh.

What a glorious end.

More silence followed. Harry and his friend the Weasley exchanged glances. The Granger girl, unlike the other Gryffindors, was at the edge of her seat, biting her lip and looking so very eager to prove she was  _ not  _ a dunderhead.

Longbottom looked ready to wet himself.

“Potter!” Snape said suddenly, the class’s attention snapping back to the front. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Hardly a fair question for the beginning of the year, but Draco knew the answer. His father had told him Slytherins were know for potions-making, and he’d studied all summer. Granger seemed to have studied as well, for her hand had shot up almost immediately. Draco knew better than that- Snape wished Harry to answer the question and  _ only  _ Harry.

Unfortunately Harry looked like a fish who’d somehow swum into the desert.

“I don’t know, sir,” said he.

Snape sneered. “Tut, tut- fame clearly isn’t everything.” Ignoring Granger’s hand, he began again. “Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Granger stretched her hand higher. What was she  _ doing _ ? Was she  _ daft _ ?

Apparently, she was, as was Harry on the matter of potions. Draco had to silence Crabbe and Goyle’s laughter once again.

“I don’t know, sir.”

Draco groaned, eyes rolling so fast he practically rolled into another dimension.

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?”

Granger’s hand was quivering, but still he ignored it.

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Oh, yes, they were the same thing, there was absolutely no way Potter could miss-

“I don’t know.”

_ NO. _

“I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”

Draco’s exasperation practically exploded, as did the class’s laughter. Seamus Finnigan winked at Potter.

Needless to say, Harry did  _ not  _ wink back.

“Sit down,” Snape snapped at Hermione, before going on a rant about what the properties of each of the herbs he’d inquired of before deducting points from Gryffindor.

The lesson didn’t go any better for Harry as it went on. He lost two points for Gryffindor just by existing, it seemed. Longbottom managed to melt Finnigan’s cauldron, which didn’t help the Gryffindors’ case much. Luckily, things had fared well for Slytherin;the cauldron incident had happened just while Snape was congratulating Draco on his perfect stewing of horned slugs.

Shortly after the lesson, Draco was surprised when Harry approached him.

“Hello, Potter,” Draco greeted him. “Are you alright?”

Harry frowned and shook his head. “Not really, no. That Snape… I thought he didn’t like me, but evidently I was wrong. He  _ hates  _ me.”

Draco shrugged. “He doesn’t like anyone much.”

“Except you,” Harry pointed out.

“I said  _ much _ . He likes my skills in Potions. And why shouldn’t he? I’m great.”

Harry chuckled a little under his breath. “Yes, well. Oh, by the way, Ron and I were going to head out to see Hagrid- you remember him, the groundskeeper, Hagrid?- for tea today, would you like to come with us?”

This was something to consider. On one hand, it was an opportunity to get closer to Potter. On the other, he would have to spend time with both a half-giant  _ and  _ a Weasley, and he had appearances to keep up.

...Well, what was the harm in it?

“Sure, Potter,” Malfoy said, shaking Harry’s hand. “I’ll go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snape also got royally screwed in the series. Yeesh. You can hope to see more of him, at least. I do hope I potray him and Draco well, as well as the entire Slytherin house, being a Ravenclaw.


	4. The House at the Edge of the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco accompanies Harry Potter to tea with the groundskeeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FOUND THE FIRST TWO BOOKS AGAIN!!! Now I plan to update it more often. HOORAY!

At five to three that Friday, Draco left the castle alone and made his way across the green to meet Potter.

He was there, outside, walking with— _ugh_ — Weasley. Of course.

Draco walked up to them, trading a few glares with the Weasley as Harry greeted him.

“I think he lives up there,” Harry said, pointing; Draco followed the direction of Potter’s finger to a small (if you can call it that, since a _giant_ lived there) wooden house, on the edge of the forbidden forest. As they got closer, he saw a large pair of galoshes and a crossbow resting near the front door.

Potter went to knock, and as he did, Draco yelped as the sound of booming barks echoed from inside. Weasley sniggered, but once again covered it with a cough as Draco glared.

No, he wasn’t scared of a dog.

Not one bit…

“ _Back_ , Fang— _back_.”

The door cracked open a bit, and the familiarly hairy face of Rubeus Hagrid appeared through it.

“Hang on,” Hagrid advised. “ _Back_ , Fang.”

He opened the door wider to allow them entry; Draco steered clear of the giant— not because of his disdain for him, though it was there, but because Hagrid was struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an _enormous_ black boarhound.

Draco looked around the one-room house. There were hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling, a worn copper kettle boiling over an open fire, and a massive bed sat in the corner, covered by a large and dingy-looking patchwork quilt. It was a dirty little place, but it was somewhat… cozy, too.

Draco caught Hagrid staring at him suspiciously, but he looked away as soon as Draco caught his eyes.

“Make yerselves at home,” said he, and with that he released Fang.

Draco backed away quickly, but it was Weasley that the hound was after— he jumped at the ginger and started licking his ears.

Although it was a shame that he didn’t eat the Weasley, it was at least the slightest bit comforting to see that the boarhound didn’t want to tear them to shreds.

Draco still kept his distance, however

“This is Ron,” Harry said, motioning to Weasley as the giant poured boiling water into a large, shabby teapot and putting something on a plate. (What _was_ that? Some sort of pastry? Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to know.)

“Another Weasley, eh?” Hagrid commented with a glance at Weasley’s freckles. “I spent half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest.”

“And this is Draco. Draco Malfoy,” Harry added, glancing from Draco to Hagrid. Draco crossed his arms and looked up at the giant, waiting to see his reaction.

“Mm,” Hagrid grunted, nodding. “A Malfoy. Yeh, I’ve seen the lot of his ilk come and go here.”

That was _it_? No sudden groveling, no bumbling apologies? Well, whatever.

Draco also noticed that Hagrid didn’t speak directly to him, but instead, to Potter.

They all sat around Hagrid’s table; Harry and Ron pretended to enjoy the “rock cake” somethings that had been on that plate (Draco had declined, stating that his mother had already sent him sweets for the day and he wasn’t hungry) whilst telling Hagrid about their first lessons. Draco kept his legs crossed over his chair, away from the boarhound, which was currently resting its head on Harry’s leg and drooling all over them. He sipped his tea warily, remaining silent as the others talked.

When they’d gotten to talking about Filch, the squib caretaker of the castle who owned a cat and happened to hate everyone, Hagrid called him an “old git” (which Potter and Weasley seemed delighted to hear) and said he’d “like to introduce that cat of his to Fang sometime”. Draco didn’t think that was quite fair, it was just a cat; also, that wouldn’t reflect too well on the giant, who was already under much scrutiny.

Then there was complaining about Snape. While Draco hadn’t personally thought it fair that he purposefully victimized Potter, he also didn’t think Snape deserve all of this bashing.

Hagrid, however, spoke up before Draco could say anything. “Don’t worry about Severus; he hardly likes any of the students, anyways.”

“But he seemed to really _hate_ me,” Harry informed them.

“Rubbish!” said Hagrid. “Why should he?”

Draco noticed that the giant didn’t meet Harry’s eyes when he said that, however. Before anyone could inquire further, Hagrid asked about Weasley’s brother— the one who had the unhealthy obsession with dragons. A clear change in subject, but since Harry didn’t press on, neither did Draco.

Whilst Weasley babbled one, Draco watched Potter retrieve a piece of paper from under a tea cozy— a cutting from the _Daily Prophet_ , the article about the Gringotts break-in. Draco had already read it that morning; not only that, but his father had writ him a letter, ordering him not to talk about it, as it was important to the Cause. Draco didn’t know any details, but he knew enough to keep his mouth shut.

“Hagrid!” Harry said loudly, “the Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might’ve been happening while we were there!”

Draco watched Hagrid, and he _definitely_ did not meet Potter’s eyes that time— no doubt about it. He merely grunted unintelligently and offered Potter another rock cake. Harry went back to reading the article.

Draco found it suspicious. The giant obviously knew more than he was letting on. He’d inquire further, but Potter or Weasley (okay, _Weasley_ ) might say something stupid and ruin his plan. Although he knew Hagrid couldn’t have been the felon in question— it had to be a former Death Eater, or at least someone loyal to the Cause— he absolutely knew _something_.

Draco turned to Harry. “Potter, it’s getting late.”

“He speaks,” Hagrid said, and then boomed with laughter— then shut up as Draco shot a glare at him.

“Potter, I think it’s time to go,” Draco continued slowly. “We’ve all got homework to do, you know.”

Well, Potter and Weasley would have homework to do. Draco had already finished his for the weekend. However, Hagrid seemed to buy this ruse, and declared that they needed to keep up with their studies, quickly ushering them out— but not before offering them more rock cakes. (He didn’t offer Draco any. Rude. Although, Draco wouldn’t have accepted them, anyways, so perhaps it was for the best.)

They made their ways back to the school, the pockets of Potter’s and Weasley’s robes full of rock cakes. They didn’t talk— Draco was thinking about the Gringotts break-in, and he knew Potter was, too.

 

“Where were you, Malfoy?”

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes as he sat between Crabbe and Goyle, grabbing scones from the center of the table before reaching for the actual food. “Nowhere concerning _you_ , Goyle.”

Crabbe talked about Quidditch while they ate. Near the end of the meal, Draco caught sight of Harry at the Gryffindor table and, excusing himself, walked over.

Harry looked up at Draco once he’d gotten close, ceasing his conversation with Longbottom, Weasley, and Thomas about one of their classes.

“Hello, Malfoy,” Harry said. “Can I help you?”

“I’d like to speak with you.” He shot glares at the other people around the table. “In _private_.”

Harry frowned, looking around at his fellow Gryffindors. Weasley was shaking his head (git). “Sure, I suppose.” He stood and followed Draco out of the Great Hall and into the corridor.

“What is it, Malfoy?” Harry asked, once they were alone and far away from the noise of the other students.

“That break-in, at Gringotts,” Draco whispered, double-checking to see that they were alone. “There’s more to it, don’t you think?”

Harry looked from side to side, then nodded. “I do. We were there that day— my birthday. I think we visited the vault that was robbed; Hagrid he grabbed a parcel from there. It was… old, and a bit dinky.”

“Hm.” Draco frowned, trying to think of what it could be. His father surely would not tell him anything about it. “I think it might have something to do with the Dark Lord.”

“Who? Voldemort?”

Draco flinched, but quickly composed himself. “Uh, yes. Him. The Death Eaters—”

“Death Eaters? What are ‘Death Eater’?”

Merlin’s _beard_ , this boy needed to be educated on the wizarding world, and the people by which he’d been introduced to it were morons. “They serve the Dark Lord.”

Harry made a face. “Why would anyone do that?”

Draco looked at Harry, whose expression was a mixture of disgust and shock, and made a mental note not to tell him about his family’s ties to the Dark Lord— if he were to turn Harry to their Cause now, he’d have to do so through guile.

“It doesn’t matter. What does matter, though, is that they— the Death Eaters— wanted whatever was there. My father—” Draco bit his tongue. “Er, my father is, ah… _investigating_ the goings-on of Gringotts right now.” Yes, surely Potter would believe that. “He won’t tell me much, but I’m sure I can get something out of him.”

Harry nodded. “Alright. Yeah.”

“Good.” Draco grabbed Harry’s arm as he started to walk away. “And Potter?”

“Yes, Malfoy?”

“We never spoke of this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading to the end. I do feel as though Draco was royally screwed over in the books, yes? This is more of closure for me. This is also the first fic I've ever written on AO3 that my computer hasn't deleted (dumb glitches), probably because I'm writing it on a different computer.


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